Our bag will probably show up today (fingers crossed, please)on another flight from Miami, but until then I will long for and think fondly of all my favorite things, including every comfortable pair of shoes I own except for a lone pair of boots. Alex and I have convinced ourselves that because we barely made it onto the plane from Miami to SFO yesterday, the bag was probably seconds behind and was just too lazy to make those last 10 minutes count. I always knew that bag was no good.
Our flight from Cancun to Miami was delayed by over an hour (and no one ever said why), so it turned our original, gracious 2 hour and 42 minute layover into a 63 minute layover. Usually I would think that would be plenty of time, but it really isn't when you have to de-board the plane from all the way in the back, walk briskly for 20 minutes to get to immigration, clear immigration, wait for your checked bag, navigate your bag through a throng of other anxious and angry passengers, clear customs, re-check your bag with the airline, go through the giant security line that does not move, figure out what gate your going to and then jog in a frenzied and delirious state for another 15 minutes to your gate. All that made me sick to my stomach, but then I finally got to the gate and saw that it was a flight going to Atlanta. Alex was pretty far behind me at that point because he was carrying most of the bags, so I figured it was best to wait for him there. I walked up to the people working at the gate and tried to remain calm as I sputtered the words "Atlanta? What? But San Francisco?" which fell to deaf ears at the counter. I caught my breath and attempted to be polite as I clenched my fists and asked if someone could please help me find the flight to San Francisco. A woman at a computer finally tilted her head up ever so slightly and glared at me over her bifocals. She spoke to me so quietly that I was forced to stand closer to the counter, then she acted as if I should have known that the flight for San Francisco had been moved 9 more gates down. I waited for Alex, told him where we were going and proceeded to run some more. We actually had about 10 minutes to spare by the time we got to the actual gate, but those minutes were all spent waiting in line to board the plane. In a perfect world, those minutes were meant to be used getting some dinner, but instead we had to buy food on the plane, which made me furious. They messed up my layover and were surly and unhelpful, the least they could do was buy me a freakin sandwich, or at least some crackers and cheese. Did you ever have to buy food on an airplane? 5 bucks for a sandwich and you don't even get any chips. What has this world come to?
The funniest part of the whole ordeal was clearing customs, which I thought would be the hardest part, but it was actually a breeze. The guy we gave our stamped papers to was on his cell phone, obviously getting the best quotes for his insurance. I could have handed him a piece of paper that said "Douchebag McFuckyou and friend are now entering your country. We are currently carrying 79 million pesos, 4 tons of silver and 2 suitcases full of blow" and he still would have let us through. It's good to know that airport security is still working hard to keep us all safe.
Do you think because I just wrote that I may never get my bag back?
I would like to end this post on a happy note, since I still have no news about the suitcase.
Here's the part where you ask me if I got to see any monkeys while I was in Mexico. My response to you would be Hell, yeah!
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